The Guardian
by elfy goodness
Summary: Legolas, Mary Sue, goes through the trilogy, ancient prophecy, blah blah blah. Enjoy. Sorry my spaces don't work, don't read if you can keep a place w/o a finger lol.
1. Beginnings

Chapter 1  
  
"Move your feet! How are you supposed to parry if those balloons get in the way!? Ah, that's it, lassie! My wee little ducking, so quick with a sword! One day you'll have mine and put it to good use I wager! Now, again!" Gabrielle O'Malley sighed sadly at the memory as she watched the pallbearers gently set the coffin into the grave. Her father's coffin. It now housed the only thing Gabby had ever clung to. It was though all her dreams had died with him and now resided in the grave along with the deceased. She fingered the hem of her black shirt and adjusted her sunglasses. She'd be damned before she let anyone see her cry, especially when today was supposed to be so happy. She knew in her heart that she would never celebrate Easter again. There would be no colored eggs and sweet little bunnies for her. She could never again enjoy the day that Daddy died.  
  
***  
  
"Lauren? Hi, it's Gab. Look, is Jonathan home? I wanted to give him Daddy's sword." The words rang into the following silence. Lauren felt like crying. The sad voice had sounded tinny and far away, like it was spoken from the bottom of a well. "Gabby, why on earth would you get rid of your father's sword!? It was his most prized possession! It was a gift from his mother when he started that odd little business. You can't give anything so special away. What would he think of you!?" Lauren immediately regretted her words. A week ago, they would be brushed off and laughed at. Now, they sounded harsh and cruel even to her. "But, Lala, Daddy only trained people to swordfight because he couldn't do anything else. Why should I keep a memento of failure?" Gabby's voice cracked and she struggled to keep from crying. She had never talked to her father about his disability openly. He had never been able to discuss it without becoming angry with a God whom he had followed faithfully and yet gave him polio. The loss of her mother had beaten him down, but had not broken him. The loss of his legs had not either. He had founded his business as revenge upon Him who had stolen his love and his freedom. The sword fighting company had struggled until Hollywood discovered it. The trainers finally had had the resources to study many types of fighting skills with various weapons. Liam had taught her to fight with almost all of them though he was confined to a wheelchair. The ornate Celtic broadsword he had given to her on his deathbed, denying his mother's wishes to take it into the ground with him when he died, the way they did when it was forged. "It isn't a memento of failure, Gabby, it's a trophy! He overcame his disability and triumphed with Slash Inc., which is pretty amazing in this day and age. By the way, who's taking over the business?" Lauren hoped her encouragement would cover her trespasses and that by changing the subject she would avert the disaster of Gabby's tears. "Steven, of course. Little punk always was best with a sword," Gabby replied affectionately, seeing in her mind the short, wiry brat he had been at fourteen when her father pulled him off the street in pity and love; now twenty-two. "Best with a sword after you, sweetie. Everyone in town knows not to mess with you. Maybe that's why you can never get a date!" "That's something coming from you, lassie. You chose to marry the first guy who chose to notice you." "Maybe because he'd liked me since we were five!" Lauren replied hotly. "Just because I preferred the swing set instead of chasing the boys and throwing mud at them-" "All right, Lauren! I don't envy you for marrying Jonathan! Good gravy, if anything I'm TOO happy! I can't wait for the baby to come," Gabrielle was happily picturing their perfect family. They would be so beautiful. Gabby thought that twenty-seven was the optimal time to have a baby. It would be wonderful to be loved by two parents. "The baby had just better not come until the move. Belgium is a long way away." "And that's ANOTHER thing. Lala, how DARE you go and take my god baby to some country a billion miles away!?" Gabrielle wailed. How could Lauren leave? All her bridges were burning, one by one. "Tell me again why you have to leave," she mourned. Lauren sighed. "You know very well Jonathan's been transferred to a base there and I, for one, refuse to stay here when he's needed there. At least this way we'll be together some of the time." "Oh, well, in that case I'll make sure I pop in the next time I fly around the moon," she grumbled. Gabby tried very hard not to take Lauren's leave- taking personally, but the loss cut deep. Why did everything happen all at once? 'Well, when it rains it pours,' she thought. Lauren desperately searched for a new topic to discuss. "By the way, why AREN'T you taking over Slash? I'm sure they're all crying for your expertise in the field." "Yes, that's true," Gabrielle laughed. "Daddy taught me everything he knew. Steven even offered to marry me if I'd stay for five years." She sighed deeply. "However, I've decided to forsake my true calling and go feral. I'm pulling off into the woods for a year of retreat. I'm sufficiently moneyed; Daddy managed to pull in enough cash that I could suitably retire for the next seventy years and still be comfortably well off. Of course, I wouldn't be able to buy squat should I attempt such a thing. Anyway, I've put down a year's rent on a tiny little cabin deep in the woods somewhere or other. I will be totally isolated from all society. It's about time I got in touch with my roots." "Um.... What are your roots? You never told me." Lauren was curious. Gabrielle didn't fit any of the ethnic profiles she had grown up with. Gabrielle was Caucasian, with an incredibly think mane of almost blonde, almost curly hair and green eyes. She was of medium height and had a medium build. Though she had lost a lot of weight since Liam her father had fallen ill, she still had a large bust and rounded hips. She was quite normal; you might pass her on the street and not notice her unless she was smiling. Gabrielle had a smile that lit her face up like a sunrise; like she was glowing from inside. Lauren had not seen overmuch of those smiles as of late. Gabrielle was startled by the question. "Never? Really? Oh, I am deeply Gaelic. 'Descended of Kings', my father used to say. Apparently, I'm a direct descendent of King Aiden of Ireland in the Fifth century or something like that. Daddy discovered it when he did a family tree in, like, second grade. I doubt it though. I mean, do I look like a queen? But there might be a nugget of truth in there somewhere. Liam is an Irish name, after all." "But Gabrielle isn't," Lauren interjected. "True, but my mother was French. Gabrielle St. Claire. She didn't live long enough to name me, so Daddy named me after her. Pictures have proven I look much more like Daddy than her." Privately Lauren thought that was probably impossible, since her father had had straight black hair and brown eyes. Well, children didn't always look like their parents. "Good gravy, look at the time! I have to pack! My plane leaves in two days!" Gabrielle was actually starting to feel excited about the blasted trip. Dang it, that wasn't the plan. All she wanted was time to mourn, not to have fun. "I'll even be making my own clothes. Already packed into my apartment are yards and yards of cloth, all in forest colors. Moss greens, birch bark browns, it'll be a blast," Gabby stated, only half sarcastically. "Can I help you? I know all about sewing. And I can even make you look sexy, though practical." Lauren jumped at the chance to spend more time with her beloved, though beleaguered friend. "Oh, si, signore, I would hate for the squirrels to miss out," She replied dryly. "Of course I want you to help! I can't even turn on the stupid sewing machine! What time can you come over tomorrow?"  
  
"Nine?" "In the morning!? Are you serious!?" "Take it or leave it, Gab." "Done. See you tomorrow."  
  
"And Gabby?" "Yes?" "You're taking the sword, aren't you." "And multiple other weapons. So what?"  
  
"Just asking. See you tomorrow?" "Nine then, sadist."  
  
"Love you." "Love." As Lauren hung up the phone, she thought about how much she hoped this trip would brighten Gabby up. Lauren hated to see her sad. She sat down and pulled out a notepad. First of all, they were going to have to buy her several pairs of sturdy new boots.... 


	2. Questions

Disclaimer: don't own squat, dangit.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Deep in Imladris, home of the Elf-lord Elrond Halfelven, a wizard sat and brooded in the Hall of Fire to the star-clad voices of many elves. 'Silivren penna miriel o menel aglar elenath!' The words drifted around him like mist and yet he paid no attention. All his thoughts were thinking of the Ancients and the invocation wrought. Why had not the Guardian come yet? He was supposed to come when the Words of the Old Tongue were said. They had been said long ago, at the first uprising of Sauron the Deceiver. Why had not the Guardian come then? Perhaps the time had not been right. Perhaps he should try again at the Council- "Gandalf?" came the quiet query, interrupting the steady stream of thought. "Yes, Frodo? Sam told me you were in abed. Can you not sleep? There is much to come. You should be resting. Tomorrow will be a trying day," said the wizard kindly, smiling at the small hobbit. Poor Frodo had been through so much, and still must yet do so much. Those with the gifts of Sight had told him so. "Of course you're right, Gandalf, but it is about tomorrow that I seek you. Why is my presence required at the Council? Have I not done enough?" "You have done more than enough, Frodo Baggins, and your path is set before you. Only you can walk on it, and yet it may be changed, for good or evil I cannot see." "I understand. What were you thinking of? Are you not allowed sleep in the hallowed halls? So beautiful...." Gandalf smiled sadly. "They are very beautiful. Yet their beauty fades as the Elves go into the West." "I mourn for them," said Frodo while settling down next to his old friend. "As do I, yes. What I was pondering was the whereabouts of the Guardian."  
  
"The Guardian? The Guardian of what?" Gandalf laughed lightly. "The guardian of Middle-earth. He is supposed to appear when a Maiar says the Invocation in the Ancient Tongue, but that has been tried long ago and failed. I was thinking that perhaps we should try again at tomorrow's Council. However, invocations are a tricky business. One wrong word, one mistake - an entire spell gone wrong." "But you can do it, can't you, Gandalf? Can't you succeed where others have failed?" Full of faith in the old man, Frodo's blue eyes sparkled as he smiled. "Only time will tell, Frodo. Now run off to bed. I must read many texts and speak to our host if I am to attempt this. I will see you tomorrow. I, of course, will be up with the sun." Gandalf harrumphed and took a deep drag on his pipe. Frodo sighed. "Goodnight, Gandalf." "Goodnight, Frodo. Until the morrow." Gandalf sat back and continued to think of when and how to do the Invocation. At the start of the Council, he decided. Rising stiffly, he hobbled off to find Elrond and tell him of this plan, desperate though it might be. 'May the Valar help me in this task,' he thought, and turned toward the waterfall. Elrond's quarters were close by the top.... 


	3. Kabang

Disclaimer: don't own squat, dangit.  
  
A/N: anyone w/ some HELPFUL suggestions on how to learn how to PARAGRAPH so that I can no longer subject you to this torture which (I'm sure) is utterly savaging your poor eyes. As an fyi, I have Windows 98 and am in Microsoft Word. Help me out people, my story reads better if you're not blind.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
A scant three months had passed since Gabrielle had arrived at the little cabin deep in the woods at the base of the Mountain, miles from any semblance of normal civilization. Everything was taken care of. If she needed more food, she took the twelve-mile trek to the tiny outpost, which served as post office, grocery store, police station, and everything else under the sun. One not-so-special day, Gabrielle woke early, around three a.m., to begin the hard journey to get more food and her weapons sharpened. Gathering her supplies, Gabby ran her finger over the edge of her favorite dagger. It didn't bleed. The Celtic handle in the shape of a dragon appeared to be snarling; it too was a precious heirloom. She sighed. She really needed to take better care of her things. Now, what should she wear? Gabrielle smiled in anticipation of the elderly shopkeeper's face when he saw her in her shirt, cape, sword, and at least five daggers strapped to her thighs. 'He would probably pop,' she thought. 'Thanks Lauren!' Lauren had done her job well. Every single article of Gabby's clothing was practical for hiking, yet showed off her nice figure and made her look like, like.... like an evil fairy or something. Oh, how she longed to see Lauren. Perhaps she should write a letter. Her hand strayed toward the paper.... and firmly grasped her shopping list. If she didn't get going soon, she would miss the sunrise. There would be plenty of time to write Lala later. Walking quietly with her back to the Mountain, Gabrielle mused about why Fox had cut Xena: Warrior Princess from the networks. It had been in, what, sixteen seasons? It had been widely followed, and had indeed shown (finally) a woman who could kick some ass. Before had been Hercules, and now Buffy: The Vampire Slayer. TV seemed to get worse every year. And the networks didn't even have the decency to rerun them on Saturdays! The only good thing on was Beastmaster, and that really said something. Of course, if they hadn't made the last two seasons so dang crappy- .. What the heck was that? Torn from her reverie by a rustle in the bushes, Gabby quickly drew a knife from a side sheath and went into "commando assassin" mode. She crouched swiftly and began to creep silently forward with her knife at the ready. Suddenly, a bunny shot from the bushes. Startled, Gabrielle lost her balance and her hand flew to catch herself. Her leg twisted painfully and she landed hard on her bum. Getting up, Gabby said a silent prayer of thanks that she hadn't fallen on her knife. Now, there would be a tragedy. If only she could shake the feeling that something was going to happen soon.... * "Now, Miss Gabby, What seems to be the problem here?" Gabrielle smiled at the old man. "Well, Jason, look at them! The edges are completely dull. I could poke myself with them and I wouldn't even bleed. How am I supposed to protect myself if all the damage I'm capable of inflicting is a miniscule bruise?" "Well, dogoneit, ma'am, I don't rightly know who you'd be protecting your purty self from. Them coon's been getting a little frisky?" Jason looked at her in puzzlement. Gabby realized that he couldn't comprehend someone trying to hurt her. She heaved a sigh. "Jason, darling, it's always intelligent to be prepared. Would you be a dear and sharpen them while I go get what I need from the store?" Jason winked at her. "And what about that dangerous sword? You want that sharpened too?" Gabby looked down. She was so used to wearing it she had forgotten it. "I suppose so. But be very careful Jason, it's an antique." She unbelted it and gave it to him. "I'll be back in half an hour, all right?" "Sounds good to me, Missus Gabby." * "Oh, by the way, Miss Gabby, a package came for you from some country in Europe! .... Is it a bomb? Looks suspicious to me." Jason was holding the box at arm's length and glaring at it. Gabrielle laughed and snatched it from him. "LAUREN!" she screamed like a war cry. "A gift? How did she track down my address! Oh, God bless you, Lauren!" Gabby suddenly noticed that the store and surrounding area was dead silent. Jason stared at her with eyes as big as plates. "So, um.... How much do I owe you? I bought all the usual supplies; a three- month supply of beef jerky and assorted other foodstuffs, batteries for my CD player, 5 rolls of duct tape, female items, and everything else." Gabby knew she was blushing. For never having raised her voice above a calm murmur, she was sure she had sent him straight into shock. "And have you finished my knives yet?" Gabby missed the familiar weight of the sword by her side. It was security. It was also like having her father with her all the time. No matter what anyone said, having weapons with her was practical. You never knew when you might need one. "Y-Yes, Miss Gabby. Here you are," Jason stammered. He handed them over. Into the sheathes they went; one on each thigh, one down the right boot, two strapped to her back, the dragon by her ribcage, and the sword at her waist. To say the least, Gabby felt like a warrior. "See you later, Jason!" "G-Goodbye, Missus Gabby." "Bye...." The cry faded as she sailed out the door with a huge bag of provisions and a large box. She looked as formidable as a bear. * As soon as she was out of eyeshot, Gabby raced toward the cabin. About 10 minutes later she stopped. 'Boy do I feel retarded,' she thought. 'What is wrong with me? I can cut open that stupid package easily. I'm wearing five blades and a sword!' Plopping herself down on the grass, she pulled the massive box toward her. Seconds later she was reading the attached note: Gabby~ I know I shouldn't have bothered, but I made you three new outfits, complete with boots and underwear. Also enclosed is your birthday present. But don't wear it in the woods, ok? Love, Lauren That Lauren! Frantically Gabby rifled through the clothes until she found something wrapped in plain brown paper. She carefully opened it. It was.. .. A dress. Lauren gave me a DRESS!? In frustration Gabby buried it deep. That Lauren! When would she learn? After carefully transferring the clothes into the already overstuffed bag, Gabby got up and realized she had no idea where she was. Now came the true dilemma: Should she turn around in hopes of finding her way back to the store and risk going in the wrong direction, or should she set out blindly for home with the one in a billion chance that she might just find it? It was unfortunate that the sun was directly overhead. Oh well. She'd lasted this long; somebody still liked her. Taking a deep breath, she plunged into the foliage. 'Heaven help me,' she thought. 


End file.
